


A Plea from The North

by WhiteWinds66



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, My First Fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-17 18:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13082820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteWinds66/pseuds/WhiteWinds66
Summary: The army of the dead arrives only weeks after Jon Snow is proclaimed King in The North and he struggles to figure out what to do.“When I became Lord Commander I tried to do everything I could do to save as many lives as I could, and I was murdered for it. Now I am King and I will do everything I can to save as many as I can. I don’t want to die, not again, but I will if it means protecting you and the North.”





	1. Earlier Than Expected

**Author's Note:**

> After reading fanfiction for the last few months I finally decided to give it a shot. The only things I have written before this have been research essays so sorry in advance if this is terrible.

**Chapter 1**

Jon was roused from a fitful slumber by several frantic knocks on his chamber doors. It had been only a few short weeks since the northern lords had proclaimed Ned Stark’s bastard the King in The North, yet such disturbances had become a common occurrence. He never got much sleep anyway, not after everything that he had seen beyond the Wall and during the Battle for Winterfell. Sometimes when Jon closed his eyes he could still see the Night King raising the wildlings from death all the while staring him down. But most recently his dreams have been plagued by his brother Rickon’s arrow pierced body. Jon wished more than anything that Rickon had survived, gods know that the Starks have suffered enough. _But I’m not a Stark_ , Jon thought.

“Who is it?” Jon called out.

“Davos, Your Grace, we have received news from Eastwatch.”

Jon stood up from his bed and quickly threw on a pair of breeches and a shirt. He opened his chamber door and allowed Davos entry.

“I take it it’s not good news then?”

“No, no it is not. The Army of the Dead has massed outside of Eastwatch and they have begun their assault on the Wall.”

Jon stood in stunned silence for a few moments. The dead had moved on the Wall far sooner than he had expected they would. He had only just started gathering needed resources for war to come. The North was sorely unprepared for the Others. _We needed more time._

“Gather the lords in the Great Hall Ser Davos, we need to decide what we will do now.”

“Aye, at once Your Grace.”

Jon sat down on the chair nearest the hearth and put his hands over his face. He felt as if the weight of the world had been placed squarely on his shoulders. _It has_ , He thought, _the fate of the world will be decided here in The North. If there are any gods we need them now._

\-----

Sansa had been awake when Davos had told her that Jon was gathering the lords. She found it very hard to be back in Winterfell, even if it was her home. She had done her best to rid Winterfell’s halls of any evidence of the Bolton’s reign. Even so she feared her childhood home would never feel the same after all that had happened. Now Winterfell was a constant reminder of how far the Starks had fallen. But a Stark had returned to Winterfell, and now she would never see it fall again while she still breathed.

Sansa wore a Stark gray dress complete with a wolf pelt cloak and made her way towards the Great Hall. As she passed Jon’s chambers she heard a noise that made her nearly jump out of her skin. The easily recognizable sound of a sword being pulled out of its scabbard. She stopped in her tracks and listened, a moment later she heard a clunk.

“Jon?”

A moment later he answered

“Door’s open if you wish to enter.”

Sansa took a step and pushed open the door to find Jon sitting near the hearth dressed in his Stark leather armor and his sword in his lap. He looked to be studying every inch of the blade from its pommel to its point.

“What are you doing Jon?” Sansa asked.

Jon kept his eyes glued to his blade as if it would disappear if he did not.

“Jon?”

“I’m trying to think about what I should say to the lords.”

Sansa moved towards his desk, grabbed a chair, set it next to him and sat down.

“What’s happened Jon, please tell me.”

“The Night King is attacking Eastwatch already. We don’t have any more time to prepare.” Jon sighed and continued. “The Wall will fall soon and the north is not ready to fight, we don’t have enough troops to put up a fight nor do we have weapons that will be worth a damn when it matters.”

A visible shiver coursed through Sansa’s body at his words and an uncomfortable silence descended upon them, only the crackling of burning logs in the hearth breaking it. Jon spoke again.

“Sansa, what am I to do? I am tired of leadin’ men to their deaths, if I call the banners and march against the Night King I’ll be sentencing them all to death.” Jon took a long breath in, exhaled and said, “We need help Sansa, and soon, or we won’t survive the winter.”

Even sitting so close to the fire Sansa felt frozen to the bone. She had no idea what she could say to that. Taking back Winterfell had given her a sliver of hope that the North would endure, and now that sliver was all but extinguished. Sansa didn’t know what to say so she kept silent.

Jon finally took his eyes off of his sword to look her in the eye.

“When I became Lord Commander I tried to do everything I could do to save as many lives as I could, and I was murdered for it. Now I am King and I will do everything I can to save as many as I can. I don’t want to die, not again, but I will if it means protecting you and the North.”

Sansa felt tears sting her eyes and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She looked down at her hands and in that moment, she truly understood why the lords chose Jon as their King. He is selfless, brave, strong, and he is ready and willing to die for his people. And for her. _‘When you’re old enough, I’ll make you a match with someone worthy of you. Someone who is brave, gentle, and strong.’_ Her father’s words made the tears in her eyes fall. She looked back up to Jon and said in her mind, _‘I wish you were not my brother because you mean more to me than anything.’_  Jon reached over and wiped away her tears with his thumb.

“Come on we have a war council to get under way.” Jon said softly.


	2. The War Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has an announcement to make to the lords and ladies of the North.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Apologies for what you are about to see.'  
> I really don't know if I will even bother to write in Littlefinger, so if I don't let's just say he fell off his horse and was trampled by the Knights of the Vale during the Battle of the Bastards. Accidents happen during a battle you know ;)  
> Happy New Year by the way!

Jon

 

_‘You bloody idiot! Why did I do that?’_ Jon chastised himself after Sansa had left for the Great Hall, he strapped Longclaw on his waist and put on the cloak she made for him at Castle Black. He almost wished things between him and Sansa were the same from when they were children. Almost. Jon’s feelings for his sister had undeniably changed after they had returned home. He knew what he was feeling for her was wrong, unforgivable even. And yet, his heart threatened to beat straight out of his chest when he reached over and wiped away her tears. Never had he felt such a strong pull towards another, not even with Ygritte. Jon had loved Ygritte and admitted as much, but they were doomed from the start. And now Jon could not afford to let anything happen between he and Sansa, for both their sakes.

Jon left his chambers and made his way to the Maester’s turret. He wished to send a raven south, to Sam at the Citadel. Jon needed any and all information that Sam could find. Maester Wolkan’s chambers were empty so he headed up to the rookery and found him tending to the ravens. Wolkan heard his approach and turned around.

“Your Grace.” Maester Wolkan said with a bow.

“Maester, I require a raven be sent to the Citadel.”

“As you wish Your Grace. I will prepare a raven. There are scrolls on the desk if you have not already written.”

Jon nodded, sat down at the desk and started writing.

_Sam,_

_I hope this letter finds you well, and know that your presence at my side has been missed. A lot has happened since you left for Oldtown, all of which I will explain next we meet. But right now, you need to know that the Night King has already made it to Eastwatch and the war has begun. The northern lords have named me the King in The North and I am calling the north’s banners. I need absolutely anything you can find and I need it soon. We are the shield that guards the realms of men._

_King in The North,_

_Jon Snow_

Jon sealed the letter with the Stark direwolf sigil and gave it to Maester Wolkan. The Maester took the letter and tied it snugly to a raven’s leg. The raven jumped on the windowsill and took off south. Jon watched its departure for a few moments and then turned back to Maester Wolkan.

“Thank you Maester. Prepare more ravens for travel north, we are going to need them.”

“At once, Your Grace.” The Maester bowed again and turned on his heels to prepare the ravens.

Jon left him to his duties and started towards the Great Hall. _Time to face the lords. And Sansa. Gods help me._

\-----

Sansa

 

Sansa entered the Great Hall through a side entrance and seated herself to the left of Jon’s chair. Many of the lords and ladies had already arrived and started to break their fast with the small meal the cooks had been able to whip up. She lost her appetite as her thoughts returned to what had transpired in Jon’s chambers. She started to blush as she remembered the feeling of his calloused hand on her face.

“Are you all right my lady?” A familiar voice asked with concern.

“Yes Brienne, quite alright given the circumstances.” Sansa replied with what she hoped was a believable tone.

“May I inquire as to why the King called this meeting my lady?”

“All will be explained once Jon arrives lady Brienne.”

“Of course, my lady.” Brienne said as she returned to her seat among the lords.

\---

Ten minutes had passed and many of the lords had started to become restless, grumbling about being woken at such an early hour. Everyone had arrived save Jon and Lord Glover walked to the middle of the Hall. He sent a look Sansa’s way and asked,

“Why have we been woken at this ungodly hour, my lady?”

“The King in The North has an announcement that you all need to hear.”

Lord Glover looked to be preparing a retort when Jon entered the Hall and effectively silenced any further muttering amongst all in attendance. He stepped up onto the dais, gave Sansa an uncertain look, and began to speak.

“Apologies for the early start my lords and my tardiness, I was sending a raven.”

Lord Glover, still standing in the hall, spoke again slightly irritated.

“Why are we gathered Your Grace?”

Jon gave Lord Glover a solemn nod and indicated for him to return to his seat to which he obliged.

“I received news from Eastwatch. The Army of the Dead has begun its assault on the Wall. It will most likely fall within the week, if it hasn’t already.”

The Great Hall became eerily silent for a few moments as the northern lords and ladies tried to comprehend what their King had said. It was broken a few moments later by an uproar among some of the lords. Some demanded that the north’s army march to the Wall and meet the dead in open combat, and some requested leave to return to their keeps to try and escape with their families. Sansa looked at Jon and saw an expression of total sadness and sympathy on his face. The lady of Bear Island, Lyanna Mormont cracked through the chaos and got Jon’s attention.

“What would you have us do my King?”

 

Jon looked out among the lords, the look of uncertainty back on his face, and spoke, silencing the lords.

“We do the only thing we still can, we will march north. The remaining brothers of the Nights Watch and Free Folk will hold out as long as they can, but we haven’t much time. We need to get as many of our people south as possible.”

“You would have us abandon our homes and go south? Instead of fighting in our homes and behind our walls?” Lord Glover said with a hint of venom in his voice.

Sansa watched as Jon’s eyes started to glisten, and his voice turned icy.

“If you fight in your homes you will die. Your walls won’t stop them, Winterfell’s walls won’t stop them. Our army won’t stop them… You all named me your King, I never wanted it. But I accepted it because the north is my home and I will never stop fighting for it, no matter the odds. The odds are against us. I go north, to buy us time to get our people south.” Jon paused to gather himself and continued, “It is less than ideal, I know. But it is what we need to do if the north is to endure.”

“And what of the Lannisters? They will attack us as soon as we step foot into the Riverlands!”

“I know that. This fight isn’t just ours. This is between the living and the dead.”

“You want us to fight side by side with Lannisters?” Lord Glover asked incredulously.

“Yesterdays’ wars don’t matter anymore. We need to band together. Stark, Lannister, Tyrell… The dead don’t care about our wars, our houses, our allegiances, our beliefs. They kill indiscriminately, men, women, babes. Just meat for their army.” Jon responded coldly.

Many in the hall were left with terrified expressions on their faces, Sansa included. Jon slumped into his chair appearing entirely exhausted. Sansa reached under the table and grasped his hand, giving it a supporting squeeze, which he returned with a half-smile. The northern lords talked amongst themselves and after a few moments it was Lady Mormont who spoke.

“I was the first to name you my King, if you say this is the way then I am behind you Your Grace. As are those who would call themselves Northmen.”

Sansa smiled internally as she witnessed the Lady of Bear Island use the northerners own pride to sway them. Even Lord Glover was left speechless. Lyanna gave Jon a nod and returned to her seat. Jon released a breath and stood up to speak.

“Thank you, Lady Mormont. I swear to all of you that we will return to the North when the war is won. This is not a defeat, it is our first step towards victory. Send your ravens and prepare to march in two days’ time. We also need all the pitch we can bring with us.” Jon looked to Ser Davos who nodded. “You may all return to your chambers. We have a lot of work to do.”


	3. Dreams and Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a strange dream and final preparations are made for the march north. Sansa comes to terms with Jon's departure.

Jon

 

Jon returned to his chambers late into the night feeling sore and tired. The entire day after his announcement was spent making sure his army would be properly provisioned and equipped for the march north. The final tally of those making the trip was just under five thousand men, about half of the north’s total military strength. Many of the northern lords had volunteered to march north with their King. Jon had also convinced Lord Royce to journey north to see the threat for himself. The lands south of Winterfell numbered some three to four thousand swords according to his advisors. The rest remained in the north, Umbers, Karstarks, Mormonts, and Glovers. Jon had dispatched orders to every corner the north ordering the evacuation. The soldiers of the northern houses would meet them on the road and join them in keeping the path open long enough to get the smallfolk out of harm’s way. Houses Manderly, Cerwyn, Hornwood, and Flint were tasked with holding and fortifying Moat Cailin, as well as preparing for the north’s exodus into the Riverlands. House Reed was the only house left unaccounted for.

Jon quickly shed his cloak, armor, boots, and sword belt, and slid under the furs. Servants had stoked the fire earlier which left his chambers feeling pleasantly warm. His eyelids slowly shut and sleep overcame him.

\--

_He felt warm, unnaturally so, near scalding. Jon tried looking around but was surrounded by mist, and wind swept over him, he was moving fast. Jon felt himself drop, and closed his eyes. When he reopened them seconds later, he saw that the mist he was in moments before was a cloud. Jon was flying. His vision clear, Jon beheld a sight that made his mind go numb. He was a dragon, soaring over a fleet of hundreds of ships. Jon felt no control in the dragon’s movements, only seeing through its eyes. He spotted an enormous dragon flanked by a much smaller one, and he felt his body shift to join them. The trio flew amongst the ships, their wings sending up plumes of sea water. They made their way to an ornate vessel at the head of the fleet. His dragon reared back to hover beside the ship, and Jon saw the sails. Sails with the sigil of House Targaryen. He looked back to the ship and met the gaze of a young woman with silver hair. She had a slightly puzzled look on her face. Jon heard her voice enter his mind._

_‘Rhaegal, go join your brothers.’_

_Rhaegal screeched and heeded the woman’s command, flying to join the others. Jon’s vision blurred and the world returned to darkness._

\--

Jon woke in a cold sweat, his shirt sticking to his chest. He slowly scanned his chambers to make sure he wasn’t still dreaming, the rush of flight still coursing throughout his body. The hearth held only a few withering embers and emitted an orange glow. Jon rolled out of his bed and changed into some fresh clothes. He redressed into his armor and cloak, swiftly strapping Longclaw back to his waist. Jon opened the chamber door and peered out. The castle had not yet woken. He made his way out to the godswood, hoping to clear his mind. The snow under his feet crunched as he walked across the courtyard, the cold seeping back into his bones. He strode through the godswood, while seemingly out of nowhere Ghost padded up to walk at his side. They stopped at the weirwood, Jon finding his fathers seat and brushing off the snow. Jon sat and wrapped his cloak tightly around himself with Ghost nuzzling into his side. He closed his eyes and thought back to his dream. It felt so real, but it couldn’t have been. How could he find his way into the mind of a dragon belonging to a Targaryen? It just didn’t make any sense, and Jon’s thoughts returned to the march north. He remained in the godswood until the dark sky hinted at dawn’s return by turning a lighter shade of grey.

\-----

Sansa

 

Sansa peered out her window and sighed. She wished she could spend the day in her chambers instead of attending to her duties as Lady of Winterfell. She had spent the night tossing and turning, getting little sleep. Sansa had been anxious ever since Jon’s decision to march. She understood that it was necessary to save their peoples lives, but it did little to ease her concern for him. He was worried too, she had heard him leave his chambers an hour before dawn. After sitting down in front of her mirror to brush her hair, she decided to talk to him later on.

 --

The Great Hall was nearly empty when Sansa went to break her fast, only Lady Mormont and Brienne were up at this hour. Brienne noticed her arrival and went to stand but Sansa waved her hand indicating for her to continue speaking with Lyanna. Sansa took her seat at the high table and moments later a kitchen maid brought out a plate of bacon and bread. She had nearly finished her meal by the time Jon showed up. He entered the room with a sour look on his face and quickly found his seat by her side. She noticed the mud on his cloak and tried to hide her smirk. Jon must have noticed because she found him staring at her when she looked back up.

“Yes, I know I’ve got mud on my cloak.” Jon said somewhat bitterly.

“And how exactly did you manage to do that?” Sansa teased.

Jon huffed at her teasing and she tried and failed again to hide her smile.

“I slipped.” He replied bluntly.

Quickly deducing that he didn’t give her the whole story, she decided to further tease him into a confession.

“Jon Snow, the greatest swordsman in the north, the King in the North, the White Wolf, just slipped and fell in the mud dirtying the very cloak that I spent hours making for him?” She said seriously, this time successfully concealing her grin, though her eyes surely gave her away.

Jon sighed and she swore she saw his face redden ever so slightly.

“Aye, that bloody white wolf tripped me chasing after his breakfast.” Jon replied, a hint of humor in his voice.

As if on cue, the direwolf in question lumbered onto the dais and slumped in between them. Sansa looked between Ghost and Jon and burst out laughing. Jon joined in, his ever-furrowed brow easing as he succumbed to fits of laughter. By the time their laughing subsided, Sansa’s stomach was aching, and she caught herself staring at Jon’s face. She found that she liked, no, loved it when they could share a moment without worrying about their responsibilities. A maid walked over to the table and set down Jon’s food, fluttering her eyelashes at him as she walked away. Sansa felt herself shooting daggers at the young maid through her eyes, which Jon noticed.

“Oh, come on Sansa, she was just being nice.”

Sansa flushed a deep red in embarrassment. Jon, seemingly emboldened by her current state, decided to return the favor from earlier.

“She was cute though; wouldn’t you say Sansa?” He said teasingly.

Sansa turned her chair to the side and kicked him under the table, narrowly missing Ghost’s massive head. Jon gave an exaggerated yelp, eliciting a second round of laughter from them. As their giggling subsided again, Sansa’s face turned serious and Jon’s followed suit. Sansa decided to speak before Jon had the chance to.

“We need to speak Jon, alone preferably.” Sansa said quietly, and Jon nodded his agreement. “Come to my chambers when you are done today.” Jon nodded once more and Sansa excused herself and left to check on the state of Winterfell’s food stores, if only to keep from thinking about what she was going to say to Jon later.

\-----

Jon

 

By the end of the day Winterfell’s stores of pitch had been loaded onto wagons to be brought north, and every man and woman making the trip was properly outfitted with castle forged steel as well as leather lined armor and fur cloaks. All of the lords with the exceptions of Ned Umber and Alys Karstark were marching with him. Jon grinned at the memory of Lady Mormont adamantly refusing to be left at Winterfell even at Jon’s recommendation to stay behind. He would have to do his best to keep them out of harms way. His head started to ache at the thought. Jon was also worried about talking to Sansa. After spending the last half hour wandering aimlessly through Winterfell’s corridors, he found himself at Sansa’s chambers. His hand hovered over the door and knocked three times. The door opened and their eyes met, Sansa pushed the door open further and Jon entered, breaking eye contact as he did. He stood in her chambers, unsure of what he should do.

“Let’s sit by the fire.” Sansa said shakily.

Jon sat down on the proffered chair with Sansa sitting directly across from him. Jon rubbed his hands together nervously and cleared his throat.

“So, um… what did you want to speak about?”

She seemed to have to think about what she wanted to say.

“You… us. I just want…” Sansa paused and took a deep breath to steel herself. “I need you to be safe. Please Jon, I need you to come back to me.”

Jon didn’t trust himself enough to speak then so he nodded. It didn’t have the desired effect as Sansa’s eyes flooded with tears.

“Jon, please, promise me you will come back. Promise me.” She said as tears cascaded down her cheeks.

Jon took her hands in his and did as she asked.

“Sansa,” He whispered, making her look him in the eyes. “I promise.”

And he meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa won't be teary eyed every chapter, I promise :) Will probably have some wight killin' badassery in the next chapter.


End file.
